


So Named was the Goliath

by DobeTero



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Dragon Age Headcanons, Fluff and Angst, MCiT, Modern Character in Thedas, Platonic Relationships, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:40:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28480305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DobeTero/pseuds/DobeTero
Summary: Some people fall into Thedas, others are summoned. Others, are simply born into it. And if circumstances are forgiving they are not alone.This a story following the growth and interaction of a modern character in Thedas. And it helps that a familiar face is there.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	So Named was the Goliath

As the sky battered her with rain, and the earth reached up for her with mud. Henda Harding was convinced in some small part of herself that she’d lost her mind. In fact she’d started a small mantra inside of her head of how unsane she was as she stomped and sloshed along the trail home. Squinting for the path back to Carol’s Stand as sheets of rain only poured out from above. Henda screwed her face. 

Why did she listen to Cecelia? It was the month of Kingsway, everyone knew it only pissed rain in Kingsway! Thinking back to the human woman’s tucked in face and shrill voice that tried to pass as Orlesian posh. Despite her husband being a relative to a Bann who everyone knew was Ferelden as Hedna was dwarven. The woman was saying how Henda wouldn’t know the weather had soured until she’d been up by next morning. Nothing to worry Hedna’s lovely head about. Practically running Henda out of her pseudo-lush home she just loved to gush about once Hedna had exclaimed she was finished. Henda knew the woman could care less if the world split in two, as long as she got her clothes sewn on time. 

Shaking her head of such poor thought, Henda continued her trek. 

The trees of Mosston Village thinned as Henda stepped onto the overlooking hill. The flats of the farmlands casted in a mist of rainy haze somehow still recognizable. 

Close. 

She was close to home. Henda felt her chest swell, her village just a stone throw away. Benake was no doubt trying to soothe an antsy Lace. Henda knew the girl was full of heart and energy at only two. And her being away in the rain didn't help. 

A small cry from the partially soaked bundle in her arms snapped the dwarven woman to attention. Peeling back a corner of cloth revealed proof of Henda’s madness. Cooing and bouncing the baby over the downpour, Henda pushed forward. A frown settled onto Henda’s face as she tried to calm the baby.

She had strayed from the trail. 

Anyone who had been in the Hinterlands for more than a day knew its wildlife. Or at least complained about the dung left by the animals. Or met someone boasting a scar from a bear. Truth of truths, trails were the best and safest means for anyone and everyone. Seamstress or hunter. And Henda had lived in the Hinterlands for five years. She knew better.

But the weather and Cecilia rushing her out of her home had obviously inspired a touch of madness in Henda when she followed the cries off the trail and into the woods. The sky was already drizzling, churning only into a bigger storm. It was only when droplets turned into beads of water that Henda reconsidered returning to the path. Until a fierce crack of thunder and flash of the sky’s splinter turned a small whimpering into a wail. Racing closer, Henda had found it. A baby, terribly small and nude lay in a thick patch of grass, screaming its tiny lungs out. 

Dropping her pack, Henda pulled out her most softest cloth rolls. Bundling the small thing, trying to the soothe it. Shielding the baby from any further exposure to the elements as she returned to the trail. Rain seemingly never ending. 

Henda could understand a young person’s fear of children. She’d been the first to see the look on her brother’s face when his sweetheart first came crying to him with news of baby Than. Her older brother looked so panicked and afraid. He had only just gotten his first drink weeks ago and then suddenly knews of a baby! Henda recalled how mother wanted to throw a shoe at his head. Henda couldn’t decide who thought of a baby scared more at that time. But Henda had also been to Redcliffe Village, more than enough times to know that parents felt the Chantry mothers could offer a softer hand to their child. Also opportunities and a life that they couldn’t. Henda could never shake how she heard the rumors of Ethel supposedly having a child. Good-For-Nothing-Drunk Ethel as everyone called her, had a child. She also apparently had a heart despite the booze slinking in her head. Wanting to save the child from her reach and name. Henda didn’t know how true it was, but still felt for the mother with a sad gaze sitting behind her buzz.

Above all, Henda knew young lovers and those who couldn’t be parents. And she could understand. To leave a baby, no older than a week, to the wolves and weather in the most literal fashion... 

“I’d rather be a mad woman than a cruel one.” Henda decided, her mouth setting into a firm line of resolve. The silhouette of Carol’s Strand’s farms and fields breaking from the mist as Henda walked home, light dimming in the late afternoon that’d soon be evening. 

With as quiet a shudder from the door, Hedna was met with the warmth of her home. Fireplace lighting up the entirety of the living space.

A familiar Free Marcher accent drifted from the shape tucked into the old stuffed chair near the fireplace. The grogginess of sleep at the edge of Benake’s deep voice as he scratched his beard, hair left down and messy. “Henda? You’re carryin’ your fabrics in the rain now?” Benake grumbled as he blinked awake.

Henda couldn’t help the smile that crawled across her face, fingers to her lips in a hush. “More like my fabrics are carrying someone Benny.” Henda whispered as she crossed the room to her husband. Hedna guessed that Lace probably sent to bed for the good of quiet and sleepy toddlers. 

Benake’s sleepiness vanished from his eyes as he leaned out of his chair with a squint. With a blank look of surprise, Benake managed a quiet “A baby.” 

Hedna quickly explained. “Found the poor thing in the middle of the woods Ben! All alone for who knows how long!” Henda’s eyes widened as she quickly and lightly as possible placed the baby in Benake’s arm. “Oh who knows how hungry it is?!” 

Suddenly finding herself grateful for her baby siblings and a stubborn Lace, Hedna raced around her home for ingredients. Almost had everything. Milk, they only lacked milk! Henda’s mind focused on baby food, as she crashed into the unrelenting rain again like a madwoman. Bounding to a terribly confused Hubert who gave her his uncurdled milk as she’d only managed a fierce knocking and the sole words of ‘Food for a needy baby please!’

A quick thank you and a speedy walk later, a pot of formula was ready. Hedna exhaled a breath she didn’t she was holding. A rumble of laughter reminded Hedna she was not alone, turning to Benake who had settled back into his chair with a smug smile, baby sleeping away.

“Now what’s that face for?” Hedna questioned with an arched brow and crossed arms. 

“Hm, just thinking.” Benake claimed as he suddenly glanced to the side, a smile still tugging at his lips as he looked to Hedna.

Hedna was not nearly amused, gesturing for him to carry on and share his thoughts. 

Shifting the baby in his arms. “We’re not letting this one go, are we dear?”

Hedna blinked as she finished cooling the fire. “Not, if I have my way.” Her voice, matter-of-fact, left her without a flinch. 

Benake hummed as his face broke into a grin, he expected that answer. Shaking his head with a small chuckle, “And you wonder where Lace gets it from.”

Hedna gave her husband a look that dared him to continue. Benake could only yield as Hedna spoke. “Speaking of the girl, how do you think she’ll take the little one?”

“Worried she’ll banish ‘em?” Benake jokes, but Hedna recalled how his brother, Damerin, didn’t even let him pass the threshold when the two went to visit for the first and last time years ago. 

Siblings could be nothing less of tits to each other but they could also be a terrible duo of destruction. Her elder brothers were still Jader’s problem to this day.

Hedna humfed, “Worried they’ll get along like a house fire more like.” 

“Either way, Lace has a little sibling and we have another ankle biter. Got any names for this Harding?”

Hedna’s heart jumped at the reality of this baby being theirs.

Hedna opened then closed her mouth. She had months before Lace was born to find the perfect name, imagining a name that would fit any seamstress of any walk of life. She hadn’t the need to think of more than one.

Until now. 

The baby’s fussing reminded Hedna she needed to fetch Lace’s old nug shaped feeding bottle. 

“Maybe a walk round will give some inspiration.” Benake piped as he rocked the little Harding back and forth, cooing and awing at the baby. Hedna was only given more reasons why she loved that man as she disappeared around the corner. Couldn’t give him the satisfaction of the thought though. 

Creeping as quietly past Lace’s room as possible, Hedna pushed open the storage room. Filled to the brim with farmer’s tools, fabrics, things that couldn’t be parted with and an all around mess. Rummaging allowed Hedna time to think about a name rather than the headache of the mess fortunately.

A name was extremely important, or that’s what Hedna’s mother had always said. It was the first thing someone knew of you outside of your looks. It had to be telling and right of both the person you hoped someone would be and what they’d be. 

Stormi? No. Too on the nose, temperamental. 

Maybe something from Hedna’s own family, maybe another Fikel, Ferliah, or even Hin? No, there was a reason everyone called them tits. No need to insult a baby with them.

Rubbing a thumb absently over Lace’s old feeding bottle, fished from behind a pile of slightly undone spools. With a huff, Hedna could only remember her mother’s words before Lace was born. The name would come to her when it was good and only when it was good.

No need to keep the baby from a proper meal even if Hedna didn’t have a name.

Yet.

When Hedna returned to the living space, she did not expect little Lace ogling at the baby from Benake’s other knee, wide awake. Cover in one hand and the other gripping Benake’s shirt to steady herself as she leaned in as close to the baby as possible. 

Benake gave Hedna a sheepish look. A sudden creak of a floorboard had Lace whipping her head towards Hedna, wearing a huge smile with bright eyes. 

“Mama! Mama! Can I name them?!” Lace cried, despite poor Benake trying to hush their daughter.

Hedna would’ve had a stern no in any other moment as Benake had no doubt left such a decision up to her. But in that very second, Hedna was powerless. A resigned “I don’t see why not love.” was the good that came to the baby’s name.

Lace’s smile only doubled, gapping between Hedna and Benake until she sputtered out, squealing “Shepherd! That’s my little sibling's name!”

“And that was little Shepherd’s first poo, Lace.” Benake snarked as a stench swallowed the room. Everyone’s face twisting, Lace decidedly changed her mood and distance. 

Hedna could only sigh as Shepherd began to cry.

And Shepherd Harding, for better or worse was part of their family.


End file.
